


at the front of my mind

by anirondack



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: A Canonical Amount of Ronan/Adam, Ghost Feelings, Ghost Sex, I Hesitate To Tag This Telepathic Sex But It's Like Halfway There, M/M, Masturbation, Platonic Sex, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6408385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anirondack/pseuds/anirondack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it’s very hard for Noah not to overhear everything that happens in Monmouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at the front of my mind

Sometimes, it’s very hard for Noah not to overhear everything that happens in Monmouth.

He sits and wastes away with the trash that hasn’t been taken out in two weeks and he flickers in and out with the lightbulb that Ronan hasn’t replaced yet and probably never will and he hums along with the window unit that Gansey had bought and produces more cold than the fan ever will. He leans against Gansey as Gansey studies and feels the smooth drag of thin paper against his fingertips; he leans against Gansey as Gansey hyperventilates and hopes that calming Gansey down will make the sudden dropping pit of anxiety in his stomach go away. He touches Ronan’s freshly buzzed head like it’s his own scalp and feels the ache in Adam’s feet before he even makes it through the door like Noah’s the one who’s been standing all day. 

It’s a curious thing, because when he touches his own arm, it doesn’t feel like much. He’d once described it to Adam as the feeling when your limb falls asleep, right before the pins and needles start and there’s just dead space, but that’s not quite it. It’s like being wrapped in a skin-tight layer of plastic wrap, hollow on the inside, waiting for something to come fill it up.

The things that fill it up are other people. Noah’s knee aches when Gansey, half awake and lacking the three extra hours of sleep he desperately needs, walks into a doorframe in search of coffee. His knuckles sting when Ronan comes home, frenetic and furious with his hands pressed into the bottom of his shirt and a look of grim satisfaction in his eyes. His mouth is cold and sweet when Blue scoops up her last spoonfuls of gelato and sucks at the spoon after, like there might be a little bit left that she hasn’t quite found. He urges her, sometimes, to get his old favorite flavors - raspberry, dulce de leche, things that she doesn’t _dislike_ but wouldn’t choose over chocolate. She gives him an odd look, but more often than not, she complies and he sits next to her and savors it quietly.

It could be that it’s just them, or it could be that he only spends time with the four of them, but for whatever reason, Noah is always attuned to them all. He knows the unpleasant thud of Adam smacking his knuckles on a car hood and the little swoop of satisfied pleasure when Gansey gets an excellent grade, even from miles away. They permeate through him, and he feels them under his skin, allowing his seven-years-dead nerves to spark to life for a moment. 

Noah looks up and realizes that he’s lying in his bed at Monmouth. He’s not sure where he’d been before, or what he’d been doing before he stopped, but he’s here now, sprawled across his pristinely made bed like he’d just thrown himself on top of it. He sits up and looks around, like there should be some reason he appeared here, but there isn’t. Ronan plays video games sometimes; Noah wonders if the bed is his Monmouth spawn point. 

He lies there for a while and listens to Monmouth creak. It’s very dark outside his one window - it must be well past midnight. Noah focuses his energy toward the main room and takes in the rush of air that Gansey breathes out. He’s fallen asleep at his desk again, and Noah thinks that he’s going to have a terrible crick in his neck in the morning. There’s a gentle streak of pressure along Noah’s good cheek that means Gansey forgot to take off his glasses too. Noah sighs softly and rolls his eyes. Gansey is terrible at going to bed.

He’s considering waking Gansey up when something warm and easy tugs inside him. It takes a while for him to recognize it - it usually does. After seven years, Noah sometimes forgets what feelings he remembers, and it takes a while to sort them out. The tug gets stronger, and makes his body feel warm, and Noah closes his eyes and turns his focus toward Ronan’s room. 

Ronan is closer, so the feeling comes easier. Noah rubs his hands together slowly and they feel a little sweaty, a little warmer than usual. His head itches a little for a brief second, like someone had run their fingers roughly through his hair, and then his body sparks with heat, lazy and easy and very pleasant.

Noah closes his eyes and curls one hand loosely, running the other one gently up and down his thigh. By now, it’s obvious to him what Ronan’s doing, and Noah feels a pang of jealously. He hasn’t touched himself like that in seven years, the same way he hasn’t touched any other part of himself, but he remembers the sense memory like something in his throat, iron on his tongue. He rubs one thumb over his knuckles, and then rubs his knuckles against his eye, and then he glances downwards. There’s no bulge in his uniform pants, no evidence on him of what Ronan’s doing, but Noah still knows the feeling of every slide of Ronan’s palm against his cock.

It doesn’t last very long. Ronan had been angry tonight and couldn’t drink or race to deal with it. Gansey was doing homework and Adam was at work and Blue was probably at work too, so Ronan had had nothing to throw himself against and wore himself out throwing himself against the insides of his own walls. Noah figures that this is just another release of energy, but he doesn’t remember the last time Ronan or Gansey jerked off, or the last time he happened to be around for it, or the last time he felt anything like the hot squeeze of pleasure under his belly. It’s almost more novel than it is pleasurable, and Noah lies there, rubbing his fingers against his blanket, until his body shudders a little and the feeling of warmth flows through the rest of him. It’s luxurious and wonderful, nothing like the orgasms he used to have but pleasant all the same, and it makes the places that usually have no feeling tingle warmly. Noah holds his hand in front of his face, like he might look different now, but his skin looks the same as it always does, pale and a little dirty from digging his nails into the ground trying to crawl away from the end.

He tilts his head toward Ronan’s room and Ronan feels colder now. He must be cleaning up, Noah figures, and then he feels a bit warmer again as Ronan crawls into bed and wraps himself up tightly in blankets. Noah wonders if Ronan thinks he’ll dream tonight, but catching thoughts is harder than catching feelings from this far away. 

He listens to Ronan’s body until Ronan drifts off to sleep, and his breath fades into the rest of Monmouth. Gansey is still unconscious, still wearing his glasses, and still going to be in pain in the morning, so Noah carefully gets up and goes to the main room to put him to bed.

~

Noah doesn’t bring it up for the next few days because the next few days don’t happen. Limbo happens, somewhere in between the last blow of a skateboard and Adam brushing his teeth. Noah tries to visit Blue but has to settle for being a wisp of an idea threaded through her bike spokes that she doesn’t hear over the morning traffic. Ronan goes to the Barns and Adam works and Gansey makes phone calls and Noah sees it all like a series of polaroid stills taken once an hour.

He does catch Ronan, though, nearly a week later. Ronan has had a good day, as far as Noah can tell. His dark humor is the good sort, and his knuckles don’t ache from clenching and unclenching his fists as he tries not to punch his way back to hell. Noah knows the underlying, gnawing rage that Ronan carries around and never really discards, but he and Matthew had visited Aurora today and gotten lunch after, and that usually kills most of Ronan’s anger for the day.

He knocks on Ronan’s door when Ronan is home alone. Gansey is off pretending he’s not in love with Blue, which is becoming hilariously blatant now, and Adam is at work and Ronan, Noah can tell, is trying hard not to think about that fact and failing rather spectacularly. Noah knows what Adam looks like at work and it’s rather less polished than what Ronan seems to have in mind. Ronan doesn’t answer immediately, and Noah starts to wonder if maybe he hadn’t knocked at all when Ronan calls, “You coming in or just listening to me breathe?”

Noah carefully pushes the door open to see Ronan lying on his bed, Chainsaw on his chest and earbuds pulled from his ears. Chainsaw regards Noah cautiously, then lets out a soft, distrustful  _ kerah? _

“It’s okay,” Ronan tells her. “Noah’s harmless. You could eat him in one bite.”

Noah scowls and Chainsaw caws and he can’t shake the feeling that she’s laughing at him.

“What do you want?” Ronan asks, though he doesn’t sound irritated at all. He pops one earbud back in and Chainsaw pecks at the other one until he taps her beak with one finger.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Noah says.

“Is it a useful something? I mean, shit, for a resident ghost, you’re a little clueless about dead people shit.”

“I don’t think it’s useful,” Noah says. “But it’s the sort of thing you should know.”

“Sounds ominous,” Ronan says. He looks down at Noah and jerks his head toward the other end of the bed. “Sit down, you’re making me feel haunted.”

“You are, a little bit,” Noah says. “But just a little bit.”

Ronan raises an eyebrow then goes back to looking at the ceiling. “You wanted to say something?”

“Yeah, um…” Noah looks at the door and tugs at the hem of his sweater sleeves, suddenly wondering if this is a bad idea. “A week ago or so, maybe, I think? It’s hard to keep track of time. But a week ago it was late and you were jerking off?”

Ronan looks at him again, then snorts. “Are you filing a noise complaint?”

“No, I didn’t hear anything,” Noah says, which makes Ronan laugh, in a way that Noah is pretty sure is at him rather than with him. “You were just doing it.”

“Free country, man. Are you gonna report me to the church?”

“No,” Noah says. “Why would I?”   


“Man, your sense of humor’s as dead as you are today,” Ronan says. “Spit it out.”

“It felt nice,” Noah says. “For me.”

That makes Ronan pause. Noah can definitely feel the confusion cloud through him, and it makes him feel a little guilty. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know how I sense stuff sometimes.”

“Yeah, it’s freaky.”

“Well, you know I can sense you guys sometimes. And that night, I sort of popped up and you were doing that and I could sense it and it was nice, and I thought I should tell you,” Noah says in one non-existent breath. “It seems like the sort of thing someone should know.”

Ronan looks at him with an expression that would be unreadable if Noah couldn’t see the cogs turning in his head. There’s very little negative emotion going on, which Noah is glad about; it’s mostly just confusion, wondering  _ why _ and  _ how _ and  _ what the fuck _ as Ronan so often does these days. Ronan watches him like he’s going to offer more information, but there really isn’t anything else to offer, so Noah just sits and waits until Ronan says, “You were jacking off to me jacking off?”

“Well, I wasn’t really doing anything,” Noah says. “I was on my bed and then you were doing that and then I sensed it and then it was happening.” He flails his hands a little in his lap, which makes the corner of Ronan’s mouth quirk up a little. 

“‘Happening’, huh?” Ronan finally turns his music off and tosses the headphones onto the floor where they will inevitably break and be replaced by a dream. Chainsaw makes an irritated noise and flaps over to a bookshelf. “My boner gave you a boner.”

“Well nothing really… Physically happened. Just feelings.”

“Was it good?”

“Yeah,” Noah says softly. “It was really nice.”

That seems to catch Ronan a little, and the slightly mocking look falls away a little. He studies Noah hard, and Noah feels for a moment like Ronan is looking straight through him, that he’s not as corporeal as he thinks he is and the wall is all too visible behind him, and then Ronan asks, “Man, when’s the last time you even came?”

“Seven plus years ago,” Noah says. 

Ronan winces and shakes his head. “How do you live?”

“I don’t.”

Ronan nods like  _ fair enough _ , then shakes his head. “That’s a goddamn travesty.”

“Yeah.” Noah shuffles his feet a little and looks at his knees. “Anyway I just wanted to tell you. It seemed creepy to keep it a secret. I can go.” He stands up and starts toward the door, but then Ronan’s hand is closing around his wrist, pulling him back. Noah looks down at him, surprised, and Ronan’s got the same expression on his face as he did when he let Adam pull him behind the BMW on a moving dolly.

“C’mere,” Ronan says, so Noah comes. “Sit down.” Noah sits on the edge of the mattress, and Ronan rolls his eyes and tugs him closer so that the outsides of their thighs press together. “You like it when I jack off?”

“I mean, it only happened the one time, I think, I don’t have a habit about it,” Noah says.

“But you liked it.”

“Uh huh.” Noah rubs the back of his head gently. “It was nice. It felt good.”

“Coming does that,” Ronan says, amused. One of his hands is on his hip, and Noah can feel the millimeters it crawls toward the fly of Ronan’s jeans. “What did you do today?”

“Not much,” Noah says.

“So you’re not gonna disappear on me in the next five to ten?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Ronan looks up at Noah, then gives him a crooked little smile. “Go on, sit back. Enjoy yourself.” He reaches down and pops the button on his jeans and unzips the zipper and Noah’s eyes are very big.

“You don’t have to, you know,” he tells Ronan quietly, as if Ronan doesn’t know.

Ronan gives him a look that’s almost annoyed as he wiggles his jeans and underwear down under his ass. “Shit, man, you haven’t come in seven years. That is fucking tragic.”

“Yeah,” Noah agrees vaguely, too preoccupied with the new sensory input to say much more. Being this close to Ronan - touching Ronan - makes it so much easier to feel things. The contact is like a conduit, and Noah can feel the hand that smooths over Ronan’s belly and under his shirt easily.

“Still with me, man?” Ronan asks, and Noah starts a little, then nods. “You wanna have another orgasm?”

“You don’t have to do it just for me,” Noah says weakly, although Ronan’s fingers feel very nice on the phantom skin of his stomach.

“Fuck, on the scale of making your life better versus effort, this one is a pretty good deal,” Ronan says. He reaches out with his free hand and catches Noah’s sweater sleeve and tugs a little. “Come on, man,” he says, a little quieter than before. “You want this or no?”

Noah glances down at Ronan’s hand, which is tucked in the waistband of his boxers but not going any farther, and nods. “Yeah. I do.”

“Sweet.” Ronan shoves the front of his pants down and pulls his cock out like it’s not a bizarre thing to do. Noah doesn’t stare, although he probably really does because Ronan’s cock looks like the rest of Ronan and the whole effect makes Noah’s corpse mouth feel dry seven and a half years late. Ronan’s still soft, but the loose, gentle stroke of his hand against the sensitive head is giving Noah tiny, sparking warm feelings already.

“Are you a voyeur for looking too?” Ronan asks. “Or just for stealing other people’s orgasms?”

Noah doesn’t respond because he knows Ronan doesn’t want him to apologize again, so he doesn’t. He avoids Ronan’s thoughts to give him some privacy, as if there’s privacy to be had when Ronan’s cock is out a foot from Noah. But it doesn’t seem to bother Ronan much by the looks of it; he’s already half hard by the time Noah convinces himself to look again, and after that, Noah really starts feeling the very beginnings of the tension to be released later.

“Requests?” Ronan says, and Noah, only because he’s looking at every molecule of Ronan’s existence, notices the gentle waver in his voice. “I don’t wanna put anything in my ass.”

“No, thank you. Um. Just whatever,” Noah says. “What you did last time was good.”

“You’re so easy,” Ronan says, but he leans back a little, propping himself up against his bedframe, and strokes himself slowly. Noah shifts forward too, keeping his thigh pressed firmly against Ronan’s. Ronan seems to notice, but he just nudges Noah’s hip gently with his knee and keeps going.

Noah props his elbow on his knee and closes his eyes, focusing on slipping inside of Ronan’s skin. He catches a brief image of Adam, and then pushes himself away from that, not wanting to intrude too much into Ronan’s mind, and listens to the feeling in Ronan’s chest. Ronan isn’t even breathing hard yet, but Noah feels gentle heat lapping at the insides of his skin. “Do, like… at the top,” he says awkwardly, slightly embarrassed, but Ronan is perversely very calm, so he just drags the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock and then rubs the palm of his hand against the very tip.

“Like that?” Ronan asks, and Noah nods.

“Like right at the back.”

Ronan nods in understanding and rubs his thumb along the underside, then strokes lightly along the frenulum. Noah’s body trembles a little bit and he reaches out to hold onto Ronan’s thigh.

“Yeah?” Ronan says, and he’s definitely a little breathless now. Noah can feel his own cold hand reflected back at him with a certain sense of pleased satisfaction attached to it, which relaxes him a little more. Ronan looks at him, and his eyes are already dark and he looks like, in another time when Ronan wasn’t in love with someone else and Noah wasn’t dead, he might have eaten Noah alive.

“Yes,” Noah responds, a few moments after the question was asked. “Yes, I like that.”

Ronan nods and does it again. His touch is light, much lighter than Noah would expect of him. Ronan is angry and Ronan is Catholic and Noah has seen the confusion turning inward into uncomfortable hatred and he thinks it would make sense if Ronan ripped his own pleasure out of his body, barely allowing himself to enjoy it. But he’s not like that now; he’s gentle, all fingertips and light pressure in good spots and staccato breaths as Noah’s hand squeezes his thigh harder. 

“Do it faster now,” Noah says, not a question but not an order, and Ronan complies. One hand curls around the base of his cock, jacking upwards about halfway, and the other stays at the tip, teasing little touches that make Noah feels like something hot is trickling down his throat and through his body. He’s openly watching now, and can’t even feel embarrassed. Ronan doesn’t feel embarrassed, so Noah figures that he shouldn’t try to be either. 

“What’s it feel like,” Ronan breathes as his hips roll up a little, the first real sign that his body is getting into it. Noah feels the muscle in his thigh flex and relax, and earns a little gasp when he squeezes hard.

“It feels like…” Noah tilts his head and tries to think of something that will make sense. “Like when you lie in the sun, before you get all sweaty and it’s just perfectly warm. Like that, but inside.”

“All over?” Ronan asks.

“Sort of. It’s a bit localized,” Noah says wryly, which earns a breathy little laugh from Ronan. He raises one hand and licks his palm a couple times, then goes back to stroking himself, sighing contentedly at the reduced friction. Noah remembers the feeling of sweaty palms from earlier and as soon as he does, it’s in his fingertips, very warm and a little wet and smooth with little effort.

“‘S it like when you jacked off?” Ronan asks. His head is tilted back now and his lips are slightly parted as he watches Noah watching him. His eyes are a little glassy and Noah wonders how much of it is Ronan enjoying him watching. 

“Not really. It’s too separate,” Noah says. “It feels really good, but it’s– I mean, it’s you, it’s over there and I know that.”

Ronan nods slowly, and his hand stills a little on his cock as he thinks. He wipes his hand off on his sheet, then reaches out and grabs Noah by the arm and pulls. Noah flails a little bit as he lands across Ronan’s legs, but then Ronan is pulling him upright and guiding him to straddle his thighs and Noah’s eyes are very big.

“Come on, don’t make me do all the work,” Ronan says. He pulls Noah forward until Noah’s nearly resting in his lap, just a couple inches separating Ronan’s cock from the front of Noah’s uniform pants. Noah carefully reaches out and holds onto Ronan’s bare biceps, and Ronan makes a big show of shivering and complaining about how cold Noah’s fingers are before he settles down again. “Close your eyes, okay? See what this is like.”

Noah obediently closes his eyes and stifles a shaky little breath as Ronan takes himself in hand again. The skin to skin contact makes things so much more intense, and Noah can feel Ronan’s bicep flex as he works himself over. He doesn’t look down, but he lets his head drop, and he can hear the soft, rhythmic shuffle of Ronan’s hand against his cock and the way it jostles his body a little and his right shoulder tenses a little like the memory of seven years ago, frantically stroking himself in the shower before his roommate gets back, is still buried in there somewhere. His grip on Ronan’s biceps tightens and he nods. “That helps.”

“What’s it like now?”

Noah’s hips kick forward a little as Ronan’s fingers twist lightly around the head of his cock again. “It’s– it’s.” He nods slowly and leans forward a little, chest arching slightly, like he’s trying to put himself in Ronan’s place. Ronan’s hand is on Noah’s thigh now, steading him, and Noah’s grateful for it. Part of him is afraid that he might disappear again - part of him is  _ always _  afraid that he might disappear again - but the rest of him wonders how he could possibly be any more solid with Ronan’s energy running through him. “It’s good,” he says eventually, for lack of a better word. “Feels so nice.”

Ronan shivers a little, almost imperceptibly, and when Noah looks up, he sees the bare hint of a smile on Ronan’s lips. Ronan’s eyes are closed too and his hand has a vice grip on Noah’s thigh and his hips are rocking up a little now in a steady rhythm. Noah’s belly feels warm in a way it hasn’t in as long as he can remember, and it feels like every bit of him is being pulled gently toward the source of Ronan’s pleasure. He glances down, just for a moment - it seems like an invasion of privacy, even though Ronan was the one who pulled his own cock out - and his throat sticks a little. Ronan’s hand is moving fast over his cock now, and Noah’s pressed so tight that it almost looks like it could be his. He wants to reach down and touch, to see if it might feel like it belonged to him, but Ronan is very hot and Noah is too cold for that.

There is a deep, familiar tension building up inside Noah, and he lets out a sharp, unneeded breath when he realizes it. It drags out between his legs and up his spine and he can’t help but rock forward a little. He tries not to touch Ronan, but he does anyway, and Ronan’s breath catches when he sees Noah’s hips twitch into him. Noah doesn’t really register the feeling of khaki fabric against denim, but he registers Ronan feeling it, a rough scrape that makes Ronan’s nerves sparkle and his head fall back with a gentle thud against the headboard. Noah moves his hands inward and gently presses his hands against Ronan’s chest and can feel Ronan’s nipples hard through the thin material of his shirt.

“D’you want me to come?” Ronan breathes out. “Can get there if you want.”

Noah looks up again, a little confused. “Why hold off?”

“Wanted you to decide.” Ronan looks down at him through half lidded eyes and Noah lightly strokes his hands up Ronan’s chest to his shoulders and back down.

“Want you to come,” he tells Ronan, who shudders a little at the request. “Make it really nice for yourself.”

“Need both hands,” Ronan murmurs. Noah nods, and Ronan slowly releases his tight grip on Noah’s thigh and drops his hand down between his legs. He rolls his balls between his fingers, tugging a little every now and then, which is an odd sensation that builds on the growing coil in Noah’s belly but by no means unwanted. Ronan’s eyes fall closed again, but his mouth stays open, letting out sharp little pants in between spaces of no breath at all that Noah feels fan out over his face. Both of Ronan’s hands are moving now, and Noah does his best to keep out of the way while trying not to just press his entire body into Ronan’s and sink into him and bury himself in the sensation.

Noah recognizes the edge of an orgasm just as Ronan lets out a soft “oh, fuck” and then Ronan’s body arches up a little and Noah quickly slips his hands back to Ronan’s arms, greedy for skin contact. There’s a beat of hovering right on the edge, where everything is still except for Ronan’s hands, and then Ronan jerks his hips sharply and tosses his head to the side and Noah has to close his eyes and hold on as tight as he can. Contact and proximity make this feeling so much more, compared to the easy roll of pleasure last week. Now, it tears through him, and Ronan’s not thinking of anything else, so Noah doesn’t have to shut any part of him away. Noah clings to Ronan’s arms and his hips jerk a little, like Ronan’s do, and there’s a soft moaning sound that it takes a moment to realize is him and not Ronan. He feels sure that when he looks down, there will be an erection or a wet spot or something in his pants, but when the intensity of it finally fades away, he’s spotless. Ronan, on the other hand, is completely disheveled, panting with his shirt rucked up and a streak of come splattered across his belly. Noah thinks that he would be embarrassed, but Ronan just looks down, then grins up at him. “How you doin’ up there, Casper?”

It takes Noah a moment to find his voice again, but he nods. “That was… wow.”

“First orgasm in seven years,” Ronan says. He sounds pleased, but Noah can’t tell quite why. “You got loud there at the end.”

“Oh,” Noah says. “Sorry.”

Ronan wipes his hand on the sheet again, then punches Noah in the shoulder. “Shut up, man, don’t be sorry, that shit’s hot.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks. You’re welcome?”

Ronan laughs again. He seems so much more relaxed and loose and easy now. Noah likes it. 

He slides off of Ronan’s hips and Ronan yanks his shirt off and wipes off his stomach, then throws it in the direction of the laundry. Noah leans against the wall and watches him tuck himself away and zip his jeans back up and reach for his phone, and accepts the earbud that Ronan shoves into his hands. “You like house?” he asks Noah. 

“What?”

“No, okay, electronic?”

“Um… maybe?”

“God, you’re trapped in '05. Here.” Ronan scrolls to a song on his music app and something loud and punk-sounding echoes through the earbuds. He whistles for Chainsaw, who comes flapping back and perches on his bare chest. Ronan winces as her talons dig in, but he smiles at her and strokes a finger down her back, then looks back up at Noah. “C’mere, asshole.” 

He tugs Noah down until Noah’s lying next to him, head and shoulders against the headboard, the headphone cord resting between them. Ronan bumps the side of his head against Noah’s and Noah bumps him back with a small smile.

“Thanks for that,” he says quietly.

“No problem,” Ronan says. “Now shut up, I’m playing this for you.”

Noah grins a little and falls quiet, but he leans his head against Ronan’s shoulder, just to feel the vibrations of the music through Ronan’s ears. 


End file.
